I often speak about how I do not have the “I’m done” gene when it comes to babies. Whenever I have a newborn, I think, “Yeah, I could do this one more time”. The problem is, I say that EVERY time – whether it’s baby #1 or baby #6.

As a result of my gene-lacking situation, some practical decisions had to be made so I wouldn’t one day find myself in the awkward position of being unsure if I was pregnant or experiencing menopause.

Because Daddy-o is sensitive about this topic, I need to remain somewhat elusive. Having said that, I’d like to share my feelings about a minor surgical procedure that he *may* or *may not* have had.

Having the baby door slammed shut on me didn’t hurt the way I had expected it to. I thought I would mourn the end of an era. Seems quite the opposite happened, as evidenced by a few things:

1) I packed up all my maternity clothes to give away and didn’t secretly hoard my faves “just in case”. That is how I always packed away my maternity clothes in the past. I didn’t really pack them away – they were never too far out of reach.

2) I got rid of my newborn baby clothes and blankets and didn’t shed a tear. In fact, once I cleared out all those teeny tiny things, I gave myself a pat on the back for decluttering and then repurposed the plastic storage bins.

3) I acquired a baby niece and didn’t abduct her. This was the true test. When my sister had baby Isla in January, I was worried. Usually when I hold a newborn, I can feel myself immediately ovulate. But I’m fine. I’m actually GOOD. I don’t need to have one of my own! Remarkable.

I believe that as long as the possibility of another baby existed, I would always have thought “Maybe just ONE more”. Strangely, as soon as the option was taken off the table, it’s as though I got injected with a healthy dose of the “I’m done” gene. This was a huge surprise and wonderful relief – or a certain Daddy-o *may* or *may not* have found himself back at a clinic getting another surgical procedure to undo the first surgical procedure.

I was recently given an amazing opportunity from my friends at Disney Canada to attend the Disney Social Media Moms conference in Orlando. I jumped at the chance – by March, who doesn’t need to get a hit of that happy drug the Big Mouse deals out?

The added bonus was that this conference is a family getaway….well, for a family of four, anyway. Once I got a friend to agree to come along as babysitter, I was left with two kid spots.

You understand my dilemma. How does a mama of six pick her two “favourites” to bring along? One friend suggested making them audition via domestic challenges; another friend said not to bring any of them.

The thought of leaving everyone at home to be “fair” was not considered. I want my kids to understand that sometimes they get opportunities and sometimes they don’t. Often, neighbours and friends feel obligated to invite several of my kids to their child’s birthday party because they don’t want anyone to feel left out. I assure them that the uninvited kids will be just fine – they know that their turn will come. I think disappointment is not such a terrible feeling for a kid to have to deal with now and again.

Choosing which children to bring was not actually hard. I’m pretty practical when it comes to the kiddos and bringing the two biggies, ages 10 and 11, made sense for a few reasons: they would be easy for my friend to take care of, they are tall enough for every ride and, most importantly, they have the stamina to survive amusement park hours and activity without getting crabby.

Having said that, I wanted to communicate the travel plans to the other children with as little drama as possible, so this is what I told the unchosen:
“I have to go to a work conference in Florida. I am allowed to bring two children with me but they have to be 10 years of age and older. There is a chance that they may go to Disney for a day or so while we are there.”

I explained all of the fun activities I had lined up for them in my absence. The two biggies then did an exceptional job of keeping quiet about any trip plans that were in the works.

All went well until we arrived at Disney and had dinner with all of the other conference attendees and their families. My kids observed and noted that there were many children there under the age of 10 years old.

How did I explain that to them? I told them that while it is always important to be as truthful as possible, sometimes lying is appropriate. I explained that “white lies” sometimes help to cushion the truth and this was one of those situations. I trusted that they had the maturity to understand that and, indeed, they completely got it, which confirmed why they were the chosen ones. So on top of having a fabulous time on Space Mountain, at Epcot Centre and the Magic Kingdom, they learned a few life lessons.

No question, teaching kids when to lie is a tricky topic – have you had to deal with it? What has been your experience with “white lies” and your kiddos?

Pa on his last day at the farm with Oma and his 16 grandkids

Two years ago I was pregnant with my sixth baby and boarded a 15 hour flight with my five small children. I was horrified to discover that the airline had put me beside a small child traveling alone. As if I didn’t have enough kids to care for on that journey.

A few months ago, I blogged about a flight I was on with a lovely elderly gentleman who was bravely traveling with his wife who had Alzheimer’s.

Imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago I boarded a 15 hour flight with six kids only to discover who was traveling alone beside me this time: An old guy. With Alzheimer’s.

That was just the tip of the irony iceberg this holiday season.

We traveled half way across the world to spend time with my sick father-in-law. Four days after arriving, my own father died back at home. Yep, you heard that right – I leave the country and my own dad decides it’s a fine time to pop off. Between my dad’s death and my FIL’s cancer, my son mentioned that he was experiencing some unfair events in the grandpa department.

He also noted that there is one grandpa who is still fighting fit. He was referring to my 96-year-old grandpa, his great-grandpa. What is the secret to this old guy’s long life? From my observations, it would seem that the tricks to his longevity include never eating vegetables, indulging in a whopping bowl of Jell-O and ice cream every day, setting yourself up with about 400 great-grandchildren and staying married to the same woman for 75 years.

A few days ago, our overseas journey came to an end. We wearily walked through our front door, only to be greeted with a phone call informing us that my FIL had just passed away. Seems the best time to die is shortly after my family leaves the country.

Has it been a great holiday season for my family? I could come up with a few reasons to grumble, but we’ve somehow managed to take the advice of my 95-year-old grandma: life is for the living and there’s no time to be sitting around waiting for people to die. So, in spite of it all, we did some living.

As we head into 2011, I’m mourning the loss of my dad and FIL, acting as amateur grief counselor to my kiddos and thinking I may just spend a bit more time over the next year sharing bowls of Jell-O with my grandpa.

We don’t get too worked up about a little mess at our house

My friend Emily over at The Motherhood recently asked me to co-host an online discussion about how to “unspoil” your child. Due to a scheduling conflict, I couldn’t participate, which was disappointing for me. I find spoiling kids to be a particularly annoying habit of many parents.

I started thinking about how kids are spoiled, other than in the usual fashion of parents allowing them to have too much crap.

Two situations came to mind:

1) Serving them hand and foot
I know a mom who has two children, ages thirteen and eleven. She has been at home for most of those years raising the children and obsessively cleaning her house. Because she is both a control and neat freak, she has all but banned the kids from going into the kitchen. Children in the kitchen means there is risk of a mess being created. Sadly, what this has created is much worse. If her children want something from the kitchen, she jumps up and fetches it for them. Imagine an eleven-year-old child not getting himself a glass of milk. If my five-year-old dares ask me to get her a glass of milk, I inquire if her legs are painted on. So, I say it’s time to worry less about mess-making and more about creating couch-dwelling, order-barking tweens.

2) Paying them for being a part of the family
I’m not at the stage yet where I have kids old enough to babysit younger siblings, but I suspect when the time comes, I won’t pay them to do it. It just rubs me the wrong way – shouldn’t we take care of each other, not for money, but because that’s what families do? For the same reason, I don’t pay children for doing household chores. Maybe when I start getting a pay cheque for making dinner, the kids can start getting one for clearing the table. Until then, they’ll do it because they are a part of a family community where everyone is expected to contribute.

So let them mess up your kitchen. Then don’t pay them to clean it up.

Two years ago, our family sponsored a child in Costa Rica named Oscar Mario. He was the chosen one for very specific reasons – at the time, our family was a bit light in the boy department so we thought a male would even things out nicely. My eldest son was obsessed with Super Mario, so when we saw a child who had the name Mario, it was clearly a good fit.

The kiddos feel very connected with Oscar Mario – they send him letters and art work, and anxiously await his response. When they are all behaving like spoiled brats, I remind them of Oscar Mario and his life, and they humbly retreat back into humans I am proud to have birthed.

Last year for Oscar Mario’s birthday, our family sent off a package with stickers, cards and Mabel’s Labels. Some months later, it was returned unopened. I did what every good mother does – hid it from the kids and forged a letter of thanks from Oscar Mario.

I had been meaning to reach out to the agency to investigate the returned package. But our monthly donation continued to be withdrawn so I assumed everything was fine. Of course, following up on the package ended up at the bottom of my “to-do” list – tied in last place with about 20 other items.

Last month I got a letter saying we have a new sponsored child because Oscar Mario cannot be located. Not be located?! I started flipping out wondering how he just fell off the radar. Upon investigation, it seems that families commonly relocate without notifying the agency. So my next question was about where my money was ending up if my kid had gone MIA. I was told it went to his community. I do remember signing on and reading something briefly about how the money is distributed locally – I think the sponsored kid thing is more of a sales tactic.

It’s a sales tactic that worked very well on us. I’m pretty sad about losing Oscar Mario. For two years, we’ve been looking at his adorable picture on our fridge. He’s been my “go-to guy” when the kiddos need to be reminded about how privileged they are.

I have actually been putting off telling the kids about our now long lost friend. I’m torn between the truth (that he’s gone!) and telling them that his family won the lottery and Oscar Mario is busy managing his house staff in between private school tutorials and cello lessons. Suggestions welcomed.